


soft spoken words (say it, say it again)

by empathieves



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Game, Post-Trespasser, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: in their little house by the sea, cullen and amalthea share a blissful morning free of the weight of the world and start a family.





	soft spoken words (say it, say it again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefilthremains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthremains/gifts).



**soft spoken words (say it, say it again)**

 

When he wakes, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. It always does - part of him still thinks he’ll be opening his eyes to his bedroom in Skyhold. Or Haven. Or - sometimes, if he’s had a bad night - Kirkwall.

 

But he’s not any of those places. He’s not the person he was at any of those places. He’s not a Templar, or a soldier, or a commander anymore. He’s just Cullen, waking up next to his wife. His wife who saved the world. He rolls over, wrapping his arm around her. He’s not going to be able to get back to sleep, and he should probably do something about his erection and go make breakfast, but they’re all by themselves in their little house and he doesn’t  _ have _ to do anything just yet. No soldiers to command, no plans to draw up. No constant fretting about the woman he loves going out to take on monsters. The only plans he has for the day is to water the little farm they have going next to their house and maybe fix the hole he put in one of his shirts the other day.

 

He takes in a breath and lets it out, relishing the feeling of no weight on his shoulders. The feeling of the sun on his face, streaming in through the window. The call of the birds outside, the soothing sound of the ocean lapping at the cliffs. The softness of their bed, the warmth of Amalthea up against him. He feels her shift under his arm, feels her hand grope for his. She wriggles closer to him, turning her head a little to look up. 

 

“Morning,” she says, smiling a little, before wriggling again. It feels wonderful, of course, and he drops his head onto hers for a second at the sheer sensation of it. She doesn’t tease very often, and she doesn’t initiate very often either, but when she does - he almost feels like he’s falling in love with her all over again. Which is, of course, absurd, because he can’t imagine ever loving her more than he already does.

 

“Would you like me to…?” he asks, interlocking their fingers together.

 

“Actually, I’d like to try something.” 

 

She disentangles their hands and reaches between her thighs with her hand. She grasps his cock, freeing him from the breeches he sleeps in, and then manouveurs it between her thighs before pressing her legs together. His cock is right up against her, but not inside her, and yet the warmth of her thighs and the playfulness she had done it with is so arousing he feels a little dizzy with it. 

 

He moves instinctually, the same movement he would use if he  _ was  _ inside her, and she grins up at him.

 

“I’m just a little tender from last night, so I thought this might work?” she says, her voice soft and a little unsure again.

 

“This is just fine. Are you okay?”

 

“I think we were just a bit enthusiastic, I’ll be fine.”

 

“Can I touch you, or will that be too much?”

 

“That sounds good, actually.”

 

He pulls her closer with one arm, kissing her neck, before reaching down to lightly circle her clit. She’s surprisingly wet already, and she sighs when he touches her. He can feel that she  _ is  _ a little swollen though, and though he can’t find it in himself to regret the last night’s activities he does wish they’d taken it a little slower. He makes a mental note to be more careful the next time, and presses down on her clit. She makes a little whining noise, shudders a little, and she shuffles back a bit to meet his movement between her thighs. He smiles, kissing the shell of her ear, and keeps pressing, the tempo of it as familiar now as the songs he sung in the Chantry. 

 

“Actually, can you um - your mouth maybe?” she says, and he laughs a little even as he pulls back and rolls her over to her back. She’s still hesitant about asking, but he knows that this is her favourite thing in the world. He slides down the bed, pressing kisses to her skin the whole way down, and when he gets to her sex he places a delicate kiss to her clit too, and when he looks up at her she rolls her eyes at him. He sucks at her clit, then, and she lets out a moan, before slapping her hands over her mouth.

 

“We’re not at Skyhold anymore, remember? You don’t have to be quiet.” he says, before returning all his attention to her clit and her sensitive inner walls. Amalthea is quiet at first - little sighs and whimpers, but not much more - but as he continues she slowly begins to get louder. He loves doing this for her, loves to lavish her with attention like this - he loves her body, can’t express how much, and this is as close to an expression of it as he can get. He relishes getting to do this - to taste the centre of her, to bring her pleasure like this, to show her with his mouth how much he loves her. She cries out as her hips rock into it, and he feels her thighs twitch as he brings her closer to the edge. He backs off a little, returns to the kissing for a little bit, and when she groans in frustration and physically pushes his head back down he gets back to it. He knows it will be all the more intense for him taking a break, and she knows it too - it also helps that he gets a moment to breathe. He returns to his tasks with fervor, laving at her with all he has, and when he hears her begin to moan again he starts to press at her clit, sucking at it at intervals and bringing her back to that edge with the familiarity he is so grateful he now has. Her noises are actual words now, all self-consciousness forgotten, getting closer.

 

“Cullen - oh, please, Cullen -” she moans, her hand scrabbling at the sheets, and when she comes it’s with her whole body, wrapping her thighs around his head while she quivers with it, her back arching off the bed.

 

He goes to attend to himself without thinking, wrapping his own hand around his cock, but before he can stroke himself even once she’s speaking.

 

“Oh, actually, let me just -” she says, and before he can even blink she rolls over, pushing at him with her hand to move him further up the bedand straddling him, sinking down on him. He lets out a choked off groan even as his hands come up to grasp at her hips, and she smiles down at him.

 

“I thought you were sore?” he says, amused, and she lets out a huff.

 

“I  _ am _ , but I wanted you inside me,” she says. 

 

He laughs, and she takes that as her cue to roll her hips so that the laugh breaks off. It’s a terrible habit of hers, making him moan mid sentence or mid chuckle, and he’s not doing anything to discourage it. She sighs again, blissful, letting her head fall back a little. She looks like she’s glowing in the morning sun, her pale skin shining against the blue of her shift, and there’s a rosiness to her face and chest now that she gets when she’s truly aroused. She braces her hand on his chest, working her hips unhurriedly now, and it feels incredible. He props himself up with their pillows and watches as she takes her pleasure, and his own has never felt less important. Amalthea is gorgeous, always, but times like this - when she forgets her anxieties and feels comfortable in her skin - those are the moments he treasures, and he is so grateful that he sees them so often now. 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, almost without intending to, and he can see the blush rise even as she rides his cock, which is so  _ perfectly  _ her - only she could blush at a time like this, and his heart feels almost unbearably full of affection. She looks at him, then, before moving her hand from his chest to herself - he can see her pressing her fingers to her clit and  _ Maker _ , that’s possibly the most arousing thing he’s ever seen in his life - and then she’s coming, and he can’t  _ help _ it, he follows her almost immediately over the edge.

 

She slumps over his chest, still shaking a little, and when she rolls off him he sees that she’s actually laughing - giggling, really, and he just looks at her in askance when she opens her eyes.

 

“I fell over when I came because I forgot I only had one hand,” she says, and then begins to giggle again. He smiles, and then he smiles wider. This is the first time she’s been able to find humour in what had happened to her - the first time she’d acknowledged her arm in even a remotely positive light.

 

He rolls next to her, wraps his arm around her, kisses her on the head. He can’t quite believe that this is his life, now. That he gets to spend his mornings in bed with his wife. That he gets to spend his  _ life _ with his wife, the woman who saved Thedas, the woman with the biggest heart he’s ever come across. The woman who saved him, really, if he’s being honest. 

 

“What do you want for breakfast this morning?” he asks, and if his voice is soft and his eyes a little wet she doesn’t say anything about it. She leans up, kisses his nose.

 

“Do we have any blueberries?”

 

\--

 

And when she asks him, a year later, what day he thought Marie was created, he thinks of that morning. The morning she grinned at him, and laughed, and he knew that the rest of their life was really starting. The morning that the shadow of Corypheus was blocked out by the sunshine. 

 

When he tells her she smiles, looking down at their daughter in her crib, and nods.

  
  


**bonus drabbles**

 

****almost melting away** **

 

 

Sometimes, he’ll forget himself and stare at her while she’s moving around their kitchen, unable to help it. She doesn’t seem real - their whole life doesn’t, and he gets scared that if he looks away she’ll disappear. She always notices. Always comes over to him, wraps herself around him, puts her hand over his eyes and whisper in his ear that she’s still there even if he can’t see her. Sometimes she has to do it more than once. Sometimes - well, one time - she let something burn in the kitchen just to reassure him. Those are the days that he reminds himself that no one could come up with Amalthea as a way of tricking him - she’s far too complicated and wonderful for anyone to have invented.

 

****days of warm rains** **

 

 

The first summer storm at their little house surprises them. They hadn’t even noticed the sky darkening. When the storm broke above them they were ten minutes walk from the house, down on the beach collecting shells and herbs. They get caught, with the warm rain pouring down on the them, and Amalthea had looked up at the sky and smiled, spinning on the spot, and even though it took them twice as long to get home and Amalthea’s dress had been thoroughly soaked through they had laughed nearly the whole way. Cullen had kept reaching for her, dancing with her and giggling, and they’d even fallen over in the sand a few times. The next day they’d both caught colds and they stayed in for a whole week, cuddling up in front of a fire and drinking tea even though the colds had been gone by day three.

  
  



End file.
